Clés
by Superis
Summary: It was you with that piano. It was beyond even me. It wasn't anything. We got lost among those keys.


**Disclaimer:**_ I own nothing but the plot._

--

She had learned a lot from mere observations. Sometimes they would make her think that those boys were full of nothing more than idiots, all packed together simply to inconvenience people and make life more tedious than it already is.  
Other times they would suddenly turn around and smile at her for no reason. Like she was something special – something _important_. Her opinions would change about them daily (hourly, if she was somehow receiving several different emotions from them all at the same time).  
Haruhi's feelings about them wavered like a single flower in a field, the wind billowing around her, the weather changing above her and the world just passing by. She didn't grasp it. She _couldn't_ grasp it. After everything they had been through together, how could she still not understand them? Why did they remain so flaky and opaque to her?

She pauses outside the door to the Third Music Room, wondering if she should go in. The Host Club has been dismissed for the day, but she needed to get some studying in after that (pointless) day of planting roses. She cocks her head when she hears soft, indistinguishable music coming from within the room.

It's logical, of course, for music to come from inside a _music room_. But not _this_ music room. This one is different. Inimitable. Unique.

The keys are pressed gently – kindly – but with feeling. Each emotion is expressed with each note she hears. There's a particular love about the way the piece is being played, as if every time she hears a note, it strikes a key in her heart. The music is soft, tender, loving – but is encased in a shell of melancholy.

She opens the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to disturb the player. Haruhi's hand tightens around the cold, golden metal when she sees him, a smile touching her lips automatically. His slim fingers glide across the keys, pressing down carefully. His body moves in time with the piece. He looks breathtaking, as usual; golden bars of light falling across him, his hair casually pushed away from his eyes that have changed to the precise shade of heliotrope as he bends over the piano. She can hear the music fading now. Haruhi knows she should move. She should not let Tamaki see her standing frozen in the door frame, staring at him as he plays the piano.

She can't bring herself to move, though. It's an unfortunate case of her being stuck to the ground by some invisible force (also known as: stupidity).

"_Mère_." He whispers.  
Haruhi knows enough French to know this means 'mother.' She feels uncomfortable, knowing that she is an intruder here. She turns to go – but then she hears her name.  
"Haruhi's been looking confused lately," He says in the same low, breathy voice, "I hope she is all right. Kyou-kun said not to worry, but he says that about everything that _isn't_ money. I wonder if it's me that's doing this to her? I don't know what _I_, of all people, could be doing! I know I should ask her if anything is wrong. Do you think it's a good idea? But I don't want to trouble her! Can you imagine _me_ _troubling someone_? Impossible!"  
Haruhi snorts at this.

Tamaki turns around and blinks, looking startled. She inhales sharply, trying to look composed, the blood rushing to her face. Haruhi had been so caught up in Tamaki's rant that she didn't stop to think about her own actions.  
"I heard music." She says by way of explanation, smiling faintly.

To her surprise (she's stunned at how she can still _be _surprised after all this while), he grins placidly at her. "Haruhi! It is rare to hear music from this room, ne?"

She nods.

"I suppose," Tamaki's smile falters slightly, "You were listening to me?"

Haruhi makes a non-committal jerk of her head, hoping to avoid the subject entirely.

He looks thoughtful for a moment, "Would you like to hear another piece, Haruhi? I thought I should perhaps practice! I haven't played for such a _long_ time. The one I just played is called '_Dearly Beloved'_."

"I would love to." Haruhi says, placing her books on one of the nearby tables. Tamaki pets the seat next to him eagerly, looking excited. She hesitates for a moment before sitting down next to him gingerly.

He smiles down at her, looking thrilled, "Any requests?"

"I'm not very familiar with music, sorry."

"You're _not_? Haruhi! That's appalling! Music is a part of _life_! How can you possibly live without it?!"

"I never really liked it—"

"Say no more!" Tamaki says dramatically, waving several music sheets in front of her face, "I am going to teach you how to play piano—"

"I don't think I have time—"

"_Everyone_ has time for music! How could you _say_ that?"

"I just have to study—"

"Learning piano can be classified as study!"

"—for Chemistry—"

"We'll start with the basics! Repeat after me, Haruhi: '_every good boy deserves fruit'_."

"_What_?"

--

And so, for once in the history of Ouran Academy, the sound of music could be heard coming from the Third Music Room. People occasionally paused outside it in wonderment, listening to the many cries of joy and the seldom murmurs of protest against them.  
The piano remained a mystery to Haruhi for the rest of her life, even though Tamaki had spent years teaching her. He still tries teaching her every now and then, but he knows that some part of her refuses to accept it.  
"I have played enough." Haruhi says, closing the lid with a distinctive _thud_. "I'm going to bed."  
He leans against the varnished wood, stroking it absently, "_I_ still don't understand why _you_ don't understand it."  
"It's a wood, metal and strings." His wife says blandly, "What is there to understand?"  
"That's the _beauty_ of it! It is somehow able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air!" Tamaki throws his hands into the air for added emphasis.  
"You're strange, Tamaki."  
Haruhi still barely understands them, let alone _him_ and his piano.

--

**A/N: **_I love the piano. :D Even though I can't play – I make people play for me. :P_


End file.
